NEW  YORK: 
"WHITE  FALLEN, 


1888. 


JAMES  A.  ROBINSON 


s 

University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

The  Theodore  H.  Koundakjian 

Collection 
of  American  Humor 


THE 

THOMPSON  STREET 
POKER  CLUB 


"  YEZZAH — FO*  ACES,    AN*  I  DONE   RASSLE   WIF  DAT    NIGGAH    WIF    HE    FO* 
NINES  TWELL  HE  DRAP  MORE  'N  A  DOLLAH  *N  FOHTY  CENTS." 


THE 

THOMPSON    STREET 
POKER  CLUB 

FROM 

•"L  I  F  E"« 


ILLUSTRATED 


YORK:: 
"WHITE     AND 
1888. 


Copyright,  1884, 
By  MITCHELL  AND  MILLER. 


Copyright,  1888, 
By  WHITE  AND  ALLEN. 


TO 
THAT  NOBLE  EXPOUNDER  OF  THE  GAME, 

EGBERT  C.  SCHENCK, 

These  few  reminiscences  of  blind,  straddle, 
raise  and  draw  are  affectionately  and  yet 
eautiously  dedicated,  by 


THE  AUTHOR 


KEW  YORK, 

April  16th,  1884. 


POKER  AMONG  THE  POETS. 


"  Thou  shalt  lie  down  with  kings."  —  Thanatopsis.. 

v  *  *  * 

"  I  would  give  all  my  fame  for  a  pot."  —  Henry  J  . 

*  *  *  * 
"  Now  might  I  do  it  pat."  —  Hamlet. 

*  *  *  * 
"  I  cannot  draw."  —  Lear. 

*  *  *  * 

"  Straight  let  us  seek."  —  King  John. 


"  Beware  of  entrance  into  a"  [jack-pot]  "  but,  being  in,  bear  tthat 
opposed  may  beware  of  thee."  —  Hamlet. 

*  *  *  * 

'  O  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand."  —  Tennyson, 


TWO    JACKS     AN'     A     RAZZER. 


THE  REMARKABLE  AND  SUCCESSFUL  HAND  HELD  BY  MR. WILLIAMS. 

THE  Thompson  Street  Poker  Club  was  in  session,  and  a 
big  jack-pot  had  been  opened.  There  were  evidently  big 
hands  out,  for  the  bets  and  excitement  ran  high. 

"  Looker  hyar,  Gus,  whuffer  yo'  rise  dat  pot  !  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS. 

"  Nebber  yo'  mine  !  Yo'  call,  ef  you  is  n't  'fraid  ;  yes,  yo' 
call— dat 's  all !  "  -retorted  Gus,  sullenly. 

"I  won't  call!  I  rise  you  back,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS, 
whose  vertebrae  were  ascending. 

"I  rise  yo'  ag'in,"  retorted  Gus.  And  so  they  went  at 
each  other  until  chips,  money,  and  collateral  were  gone.  Mr. 
WILLIAMS  concluded  to  call. 

"  Whad  yo'  got,  nigger,  dat  yo'  do  all  dat  risin'  on  ?  Whad 
yo'  got,  nohow  ? "  Gus  laid  down  his  hand — ace,  king,  queen, 
jack,  and  ten  of  clubs. 

"  Is  dat  good  ? "  he  inquired,  beginning  to  size  up  the  pot. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  9 

"  No,  dat's  not  good?"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  reaching 
down  in  his  boot-leg. 

"Whad  yo'  got  den?"  queried  Gus.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  looked 
at  him  fixedly. 

"  Ise  jes'  got  two  jacks  'n'  a  razzer." 

"Dat's  good,"  said  Gus. 

The  game  then  proceeded. 


DAT'S     GOOD! 


MR.   SMITH    IS    NOT    TO    BE    BLUFFED    WITH    IMPUNITY. 


MR.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  astonished  the  Thompson 
Street  Poker  Club  Saturday  night  by  raising  Mr.  Gus 
JOHNSON  sixty-five  cents  when  that  gentleman  opened  the  last 
jack-pot  of  the  evening.  Mr.  JOHNSON  showed  up  two  small 
pair  and  precipitately  fell  out ;  but  the  Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL 
SMITH  stood  the  raise  and  drew  four  cards.  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
stood  pat.  After  the  draw  Mr.  SMITH  skinned  his  cards, 
breathed  very  hard  and  bet  a  postage  stamp  and  a  battered 
cent.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  promptly  raised  him  a  dollar  and  forty 
cents.  Mr.  SMITH  hesitated,  but  finally  drew  forth  his  wallet. 
"  Look  hyar,  yo'  coon,  what  yo'  got  dat  yo'se  gittin'  so  brash  ? " 

"  Yo'  fine  out  ef  yo'  bet  dat  dollah  fohty — jes'  yo'  see," 
retorted  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  evidently  getting  excited. 

"Yo'se  done  rise  de  tar  outen  me  too  off  en.  Now  what 
yo'  got  ?  "  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH,  putting  his  money  into  the 
pot. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  looked  disconcerted.  "I — I'se  jes'  got  a 
small  king  full,"  he  faltered. 


10 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


ui   HAIN'T  GOT  MUFFIN'." 


"King  full's  good,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 
"But  I  aint  got  it,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 
"What  has  yo'  got  den  ?  "  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 
"I'se  got  three  queens." 

"Three  queens  is  good,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 
"  But  I  haint  got  'em,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 
"  What  has  yo'  got,  den  ? "  queried  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH, 
growing  a  little  impatient. 

"I'se  got  two  par,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS: 
"Dat's  good,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 
"But* I  haint  got  'em." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  nigger,  what  has  yo'  got  ? " 
"  I'se  got  one  par. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  n 

"But  I  haint  got  it,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  whose  situation 
was  growing  perilous. 

"  Lans'  stars,  nigger,  quit  yo'  foolin'!     What  has  yo'  got  ?" 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  slowly  skinned  his  cards.  "  I — I  haint  got 
miffinV 

"  WELL,  DAT  's  GOOD  !  " 


WHAR'S    DE    CASH    PER    DESE     BEANS? 


THE  REV.  MR.  THANKFUL  SMITH  HAS  TROUBLE  WITH  THE  BANK. 


OWING  to  the  unfortunate  fact  that  the  chips  loaned  to  the 
Thompson  Street  Poker  Club  by  Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  had 
been  garnisheed  by  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  (see  Rule  147,  which 
provides  for  the  payment  of  I.  O.  U.'s),  the  members  present 
last  Saturday  evening  were  compelled  to  play  with  beans — a 
limited  quantity  of  which  had  been  thoughtfully  secured  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH  while  passing  a  produce  store  in 
the  late  afternoon. 

The  cards  ran  well,  and  as  Mr.  SMITH  himself  was  responsi 
ble  for  the  bank,  the  betting  was  unusually  brilliant.  Mr. 
SMITH  was  never  in  better  luck,  nor  Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  in 
worse.  Notwithstanding  the  heavy  losses  of  the  latter  gentle 
man,  however,  the  supply  of  beans  seemed  never  to  run  short, 
and  after  several  hours  of  play  this  excited  suspicion  in  the 
banker. 

u  Lemme  jess  cash  up  and  see  how  de  bank  Stan's,"  said 
that  potentate,  after  an  unusually  prodigal  burst  of  beans  from 
Mr.  WILLIAMS  had  startled  the  players. 

Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  passed  in  ninety-six  beans  and  got  his 
money. 


12  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

Professor  BRICK  had  thirty-nine  lentils  and  a  half ;  but 
consented,  after  some  haggling,  to  call  it  plain  thirty-nine. 

Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  had  seventy-two  beans,  but  owed  the 
bank  seventy-five.  He  settled  the  difference  with  coin.  All 
accounts  had  now  been  squared  except  that  of  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  emptied  the  beans  into  his  hat,  put 
the  pack  into  his  pocket,  and  made  away  with  the  stuffed 
wallet.  Every  eye  was  fixed  on  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Look  hyar,  niggah  !  whar  's  de  cash  fer  dese  beans  ? " 
asked  that  gentleman  of  the  banker. 

By  way  of  reply  Mr.  SMITH  emptied  the  bank  upon  the 
table  and  desired  the  Committee  of  the  Whole  to  count  it.  The 
return  was  nine  hundred  and  seventy-two  beans.  Then  said 
Mr.  SMITH,  impressively  : 

"  I  only  had  fo'  hundred  an'  sixty  beans  ter  start ;  I  'se 
winned  all  de  jackers  and  mos'  ob  de  stray  tussels,  an'  yet  I  'se 
a  dollah  fohty-two  out.  Dis  bank  's  solven'  as  long  's  de  bettin' 
's  squar' ;  but  de  debbil  himse'f  caw  'nt  cash  agin  de  man  wat  's 
got  a  umbreller-case  full  o'  beans  dribblin'  from  his  sleeve. 
No,  sah  !  Dis  bank  am  'spended." 

The  Club  adjourned. 


A  NIGGAH  FUNER'L. 

THERE  was  no  game  at  the  Thompson  Street  Poker  Club 
on  Saturday  evening.  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  was  engaged 
to  sing  at  a  revival  in  Hoboken  ;  Professor  BRICK  wrote  a  note 
to  the  effect  that  his  coal  man  had  prevented  his  recuperating 
sufficiently  to  play  on  the  cash  system  ;  and  Mr.  RUBE  JACK 
SON,  who  had  promised  to  call  upon  Elder  Boss  JONES,  of  Flor 
ida,  and  steer  him  against  the  game,  failed  to  put  in  an  appear 
ance. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


i<  ^HE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUE 

The  Rev.  THANKFUL  SMITH  was  relating  the  experiences  of 
the  previous  meeting,  when,  with  the  saddened  air  of  a  man 
who  had  lost  his  grip  on  his  reputation,  Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS 
and  the  odor  of  a  Bowery  cigar  entered  together. 

"  Whad  de  madder,  Toot  ?"  inquired  Mr.  SMITH  with  the 
easy  familiarity  of  a  man  in  luck.  "  Yo'  looks  'spondent." 

"  I*  done  loss  dat  sixty-fo'  dollahs  I  winned  on  de  hoss 
race,"  responded  Mr.  WILLIAMS  gloomily. 

"Sho  !"  exclaimed  everybody  present. 

"Yezzah,"  continued  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  addressing  himself 
exclusively  to  Mr.  SMITH,  "  an'  I  done  loss  it  in  bettin'  agin' 
mokes,  too.  Dat's  whad  makes  de  remorse  bite." 

The  deepest  interest  having  been  aroused,  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
proceeded  to  enlighten  the  members  as  follows  : 

"  I  was  stannin'  in  a  do'  on  Sixth  Aveyou,  an'  up  comes  a 
wite  man  in  a  plug  hat,  an'  sezee,  *  Why  heel-\o,  Mister  ROBIN- 
son,  how  is  yo'  ?'  ' 

"Bunko,"  remarked  Mr.  SMITH,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
had  had  experience. 

"  Dat 's  what  /thought,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  "bud  I  kept 
shet.  So  I  sez  to  him,  'How  is  yo'  ?'  " 

"  '  I  'se  a  stranger  yar,  Mister  ROBINSON,'  sezee,  '  an'  I  mus' 
say  I  never  did  see  so  many  mokes  togidder  as  dey  is  on  Sixth 
Aveyou.  Dey 's  mo'  mokes  dan  wite  pussons.'  'Oh  no,' sez 
I,  '  dey 's  mo'  wite  pussons  dan  mokes.'  '  I  '11  bet  yo'  two  to 
one  dey  is  n't,' sezee.  'All  right,1  sez  I.  So  off  he  goes  an' 
comes  back  wid  a  fren'  who  weighed  'bout  two  hunded,  an' 
had  a  bad  eye." 

"  Yo'  had  a  sof '  spec,"  observed  Mr.  SMITH. 

"Den,"  continued  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  not  noticing  the  inter 
ruption,  "  sezee,  '  Now,  we  '11  bofe  put  up  a  hunded  dollahs 
wif  dis  genelman,  an*  stan  yar  in  de  do'.  Every  wite  man 
passes,  he  '11  give  yo'  two  dollahs,  an'  every  moke  passes,  he  '11 
give  me  a  dollah.'  " 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


16  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

"Well !"  said  Mr.  SMITH,  who  was  growing  excited. 

"  Well  !  fust  dey  comes  along  two  wite  men,  and  de  man 
wif  de  bad  eye  says  dat  was  fo'  dollahs  to  my  credit.  Den  comes 
six  wite  men  an'  he  say  dat 's  twelve  dollahs  mo'  for  me.  Den 
comes  along  a  buck  niggah  and  den  I  lose  a  dollah.  Den  fo' 
wite  men  an'  I  win  eight.  Den  fo'  wite  men  mo'  ;  den  one 
niggah  ;  den  two  niggahs,  den  seven  wite  men,  and  de  man  wif 
de  bad  eye,  he  say  I  was  fohty-two  dollahs  ahead." 

"  De  soifes'  lay  I  ever  hear/'  said  Mr.  SMITH,  whose  eyes 
were  glistening  over  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  winnings. 

"  Den  comes  along  fo'  wite  men,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS, 
'*  an'  de  man  wif  a  bad  eye  he  say  dat  was  eight  dollahs  mo', 

an'  den "  here  Mr.  WILLIAMS  paused,  as  if  his  recollections 

had  overpowered  him. 

"  An'  den  ?"  echoed  everybody,  wildly  excited. 

"  Why,  den,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  desperately,  "  dey  comes 
around  de  cornah " 

"  De  cops  ?"  breathlessly  asked  Mr.  SMITH.. 

"A  niggah  funer'l,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 


<   I  BROKE  YO'    ALL  UP." 

THE  regular  monthly  meeting  of  the  Thompson  Street 
Poker  Club  occurred  last  Saturday  evening,  and  as  Mr. 
RUBE  JACKSON  had  succeeded  in  steering  the  Reverend  Dr. 
JEFF  COOPPULLER  against  the  game,  the  members  were  in  high 
spirits. 

Under  Section  5,  Rule  IV.,  visitors  and  guests  are  allowed 
to  settle  with  the  bank  at  the  end  of  the  game,  and  in  accord 
ance  with  this  hospitable  privilege,  the  reverend  gentleman 
had  drawn  so  heavily  as  to  make  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON'S  eyes  stand 
out  like  a  crab's  with  excitement. 

Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  was  in  luck.     It  had  been  already 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


IS  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

secretly  remarked  by  older  members  of  the  Club  that  whenever 
the  Club  played  with  an  old  pack,  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  luck  was  in 
variably  stea'dier  and  more  brilliant,  but  on  this  occasion  it 
rose  to  such  majestic  proportions  that  every  one  but  Lhe  Club's 
guest  fled  precipitately  on  his  slightest  symptom  of  showing 
fight,  and  the  battle  was  mainly  between  these  two. 

The  Rev.  THANKFUL  SMITH  was  banking,  as  usual.  He 
honored  his  reverend  friend's  cal7  for  chips  with  cheerfulness 
and  alacrity  for  four  straight  hours.  Then  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
pleaded  an  engagement,  passed  in  his  topplin j  Dile,  and  received 
$14,  even,  which  was  the  biggest  winning  on  the  Club's  record. 
He  then  left. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  COOPPULLER  made  another  liberal  draft  on 
the  bank,  and  began  losing  to  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON.  The  Rev. 
Mr.  SMITH  was  beginning  to  have  his  suspicions.  At  last  he 
said  : 

"  Sposen  we  jess  cash  in,  an'  squar  wid  de  bank." 

Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON   handed  in  his  winnings  and  received 

$3-4^. 

Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  owed  the  bank  92  cents,  and  paid  it 
with  a  trade  dollar.  All  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  the  guest  01 
the  evening. 

"Yo'  owes  de  bank,  brudder,  'bout  $19.79,"  said  Mr. 
SMITH,  with  an  effort  to  be  calm. 

'"Dat's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  COOPPULLER,  putting  on  his 
gloves. 

"Wha — whad  's  all  right  ?"  inquired  Mr.  SMITH,  who  was 
beginning  to  realize  the  worst. 

"Dat  $19.79,"  answered  Mr.  COOPPULLER,  drawing  on 
his  coat. 

"  Whar  's  de  cash  ?"  inquired  Mr*  SMITH. 

"  Yo'  gin  it  ter  Toot,  did  n'  yoV"  asked  Mr.  COOPPULLER. 

"  He  winned  it  !"  asseverated  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  Dat 's  not  my  fault,"  said  Mr.  COOPPULLER. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  iq 

"  I  broke  yo'  all  up,  ef  yo'  doan  squar  dat  'count,"  said 
Mr.  SMITH,  shucking  off  his  coat  and  assuming  a  terrible  posi 
tion. 

Mr.  COOPPULLER  smiled.  "  I  was  jess — jess  foolin',  brud- 
der.  Yar  's  a  check  fo'  twenty-fo'  dollahs.  Gin  me  de 
change." 

"  Mr.  SMITH  counted  out  four  dollars  and  twenty-one 
cents,  and  shook  hands  with  Mr.  COOPPULLER,  who  beamed 
with  a  benevolence  only  exceeded  by  the  caution  with  which 
he  smuggled  a  wink  to  Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON.  Then  he  and  that 
gentleman  left  together.  There  was  silence.  Mr.  Gus  JOHN 
SON  was  examining  the  cheque.  He  handed  it  back  to  Mr. 
SMITH  with  a  smile. 

"  Dat 's  all  right  ?"  asked  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  All  right  ;  'ceptin'—" 

"  'Ceptin'  whad  ?" 

"  Dat  bank  busted  mo  'n  a  y'ar  ago." 


"  DAT    BANK    BUSTED    MO'  N    A    YAR    AGO. 


20  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


SCRAPED    TRAY. 


MR.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  was  late  at  the  meeting  of  the 
Thompson  Street  Poker  Club,  Saturday  evening  ;  but 
as  he  had  Elder  Boss  DICKERSON  in  tow,  the  secretary  remitted 
the  usual  fine.  It  was  confidentially  learned  that  the  Elder  had 
just  received  $17.50  on  an  extensive  kalsomining  contract,  and 
was  probably  good  for  as  much  more,  and  as  Mr.  WILLIAMS  had 
already  played  with  the  deck  of  cards  now  upon  the  table,  and 
Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  had  consented  for  a  small  percentage  not 
to  play,  but  to  sit  in  a  sociable  way  behind  the  Elder's  chair, 
the  game  promised  to  be  one  of  extraordinary  interest. 

Having  been  introduced  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH, 
Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  and  Professor  BRICK,  the  Elder  shucked  off 
his  ulster,  produced  a  corpulent  wallet,  purchased  $1.79  worth 
of  blues  and  red,  and  opened  up  the  game  with  an  expression  of 
determination  and  a  thumping  blind,  which  made  the  excitable 
Mr.  JOHNSON'S  eyes  stand  out  like  those  of  an  apoplectic  crab. 
Seven  hands  were  played,  and  as  Mr.  JACKSON,  who  sat  behind 
the  Elder,  had  evidently  forgotten  the  code  of  signals  to  the 
extent  that  he  winked  with  his  right  eye  when  he  should  have 
winked  with  his  left,  Mr.  WILLIAMS  was  already  out  ninety- 
seveii  cents,  and  was  correspondingly  mad. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  21 

At  last,  however,  Mr.  JACKSON  was  made  aware  of  his  error 
by  a  searching  kick  delivered  beneath  the  table,  and  a  new 
deck,  which  had  been  thoughtfully  placed  on  ice  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  SMITH  before  the  company  assembled,  was  produced.  It 
was  Mr.  JOHNSON'S  deal,  and  the  Elder's  blind. 

Everybody  came  in. 

The  Elder  raised  the  blind  65  cents. 

The  decisive  moment  had  come. 

"I  rise  datrise  a  dollah,"  said  the  Rev.  THANKFUL  SMITH, 
with  the  calmness  of  one  who  expects  to  fill  a  bobtail. 

"  I  sees  yo'  dat,  and  I  liff  yo'  a  dollah  mo',"  ventured  Mr. 
WILLIAMS. 

"  I  calls,"  said  the  Elder. 

Mr.  SMITH  also  called,  and  the  three  proceeded  to  draw 
cards.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  wanted  two  cards  ;  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH 
guessed  he  'd  take  one,  and  the  Elder  concluded  to  play  what 
he  had. 

Mr.  SMITH  led  out  with  a  two  dollar  stack.  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
slowly  pulled  out  a  corpulent  wallet,  fixed  a  belligerent  glare 
apparently  on  Mr.  SMITH,  banged  the  wallet  heavily  on  the 
middle  of  the  table,  and  said,  impressively  : 

"  I  goes  yo'  dat  two,  an'  six  dollahs  rise." 

"  I  rise  yo'  six,"  said  the  Elder,  but  without  putting  up  chips. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Smith  dropped  out.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  pointed 
to  the  wallet,  and  said  : 

"  I  goes  yo'  six  mo'." 

The  Elder  raised  one  foot,  and  placed  it  neatly  on  top  of 
Mr.  WILLIAMS'  wallet,  and  said  : 

"  I  rise  dat  ten." 

"Whar  's  de  money?"  inquired  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  with  a 
polite  smile. 

"  Whar  's  yo'  money  ?"  retorted  the  Elder,  as  sweetly. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  pointed  to  the  wallet  underneath  the  Elder's 
iiceL 


22 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  23 

"  Dat  's  all  right,  den,"  said  the  Elder  ;  "  I  'se  got  jess  as 
much  leather  on  dis  yar  table  as  yo'  has." 

"  Whad  yo'  mean  by  dat  ?"  asked  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Put  up  er  shet,"  said  the  Elder. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  drove  his  knife  through  his  cards,  pinning 
them  to  the  table,  and  called  out  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  for  a  con 
sultation.  The  Elder  thoughtfully  whistled  a  tune,  drew  a 
razor,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  its  edge  on  the  surface  of  his 
bottom  card.  Mr.  JACKSON  watched  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  hand  to 
see  that  nothing  got  away,  and  Mr.  JOHNSON  kept  his  eye  on 
the  pack. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  returned  triumphantly,  and  counted  out 
thirty  dollars,  which  he  had  evidently  borrowed  from  Mr. 
SMITH. 

"I  calls,  "he  said. 

The  Elder  put  up  his  razor,  shook  $29  out  of  his  wallet, 
made  up  a  dollar  more  with  mutilated  coin,  some  pennies  and 
a  postage-stamp,  and  said,  briefly  : 

"  Whad  yo'  got  ?" 

"Fo'  kings,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  with  a  deadly  gleam  in 
his  eye. 

"  Not  good,"  said  the  Elder. 

"  Wha— whad  ?"  faltered  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Fo'  aces."  With  this  the  Elder  showed  four  aces,  swept 
the  pot  into  his  hat  and  left  the  room.  The  five  sat  dazed. 

"  I  done  guv  him  three  aces  an'  two  trays,  sho,"  said  Mr. 
JOHNSON. 

"  I  put  dat  han'  up  mysef,"  asseverated  Mr.  SMITH,  be 
wildered. 

"  I  seed  bofe  dem  trays  in  he  hand,"  observed  Mr.  JACK 
SON. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  said  nothing,  but  silently  examined  the 
Elder's  hand.  Finally  he  inquired,  hoarsely  : 

"  Did  he  hev  a  razzer  ?"  » 


24  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

'*  Yezzah,"  said  Mr.  JACKSON  ;  "he  done  play  with  he 
razzer  de  whole  time  yo'  was  outen  de  room." 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  rose  with  a  withering  look,  and  put  on  his 
coat. 

"  Whad  's  de  matter,  TOOT  ?"  inquired  Mr.  SMITH.  "  How 
yo'  splain  hit  ?" 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  pointed  to  the  ace  of  diamonds,  lately  in 
the  Elder's  hand.  "  Gin  any  niggah  de  tray  er  diamonds  an'  a 
razzer  an'  tree  aces,  and  whad  kin  fo'  kings  do  ?  Gwuffum 
lieah.  He  done  played  me  outen  thirty  dollars  on  er  scraped 
tray.  Dad  's  what  makes  me  'spise  pokah." 

With  this,  Mr.  WILLIAMS  left  the  room. 


DAT'S    GAMBLIN'. 


AT  the  regular  meeting  of  the  Thompson  Street  Poker 
Club,  on  Saturday  evening,  owing  to  the  fact  that  both 
his  eyes  had  that  morning  accidentally  collided  with  the 
knuckles  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH,  after  a  slight 
financial  misunderstanding,  and  that  for  two  hours  he  had  lost 
every  jackpot  he  had  opened,  Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  presented 
somewhat  the  aspect  of  gloom.  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  was  one 
dollar  and  forty-nine  cents  ahead,  having  had  an  unusually 
steady  two-pair  streak  ;  Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  had  sixty-nine 
cents'  worth  of  velvet  before  him  ;  Professor  BRICK  was  a  few 
coppers  and  a  postage  stamp  on  the  right  side  ;  and  Mr.  WIL 
LIAMS,  who  was  banking,  was  the  only  loser.  It  being  his 
deal,  three  kirgs  wandered  into  his  hand,  and  might  have  proved 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


"DEM  NINES 'LL  WIN,  SHO'." 

effectual  but  for  the  sad  fact  that  everybody  noticed  the  expres 
sion  of  his  eye  and  fled.  A  jack-pot  was  then  in  order,  and 
after  it  had  climbed  to  aces  the  players  braced  up  and  knew 
that  the  event  of  the  evening  hed  come.  At  that  moment  the 
door  opened  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH,  accompanied  by  a  slight 
odor  of  hiccoughs,  entered,  took  his  seat  behind  Mr.  JACKSON'S 
chair,  and  glared  a  renewal  of  the  morning's  hostilities  at  Mr. 
WILLIAMS.  That  gentleman  haughtily  refused  to  notice  it, 
however,  but  opened  the  pot  with  a  burst  of  chips  which  scared 
Mr.  JOHNSON  half  to  death.  Professor  BRICK  came  in. 

"Rise  dat,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  to  Mr.  JACKSON. 
Then  he  whispered  audibly  :  "  Dem  tree  nines  '11  win  dat  pot, 
sho." 

Mr.  JACKSON  elevated  the  bet  as  directed.  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
was  delighted,  for  he  had  three  jacks.  He  returned  the  raise, 

"  Rise  him  agin,"  commanded  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH,  and 
then  whispered  as  before  :  "  Doan  leggo  dem  nines." 

Back  came  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  and  then  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH 
counseled  Mr.  JACKSON  to  "  jess  call,"  and  "and  see  what  dem 
nines  '11  ketch  in  the  draw." 


26  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

Mr.  JACKSON  wanted  two  cards,  and  caught  a  pair  of 
trays.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  held  up  a  king  and  drew  one  card> 
which,  after  elaborately  combing  his  hand,  he  discovered  to  be 
another  king.  The  battle  was  then  resumed. 

"  I  '11  back  dem  nines  for  all  I'se  wuff,"  said  Mr.  SMITH, 
slipping  his  wallet  into  Mr.  JACKSON'S  hand.  And  so  they 
went  at  each  other  until  even  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  new  collar  button 
was  up,  and  he  was  forced  to  call : 

"  What  yo'  got,  niggah  ? " 

"  Whad  yo'  got  yo'se'f  ?"  retorted  Mr.  JACKSON. 

"I'se  got  er  jack-full — dat's  what  /  got,"  said  Mr.. 
WILLIAMS. 

"  Shome  down,"  said  Mr.  SMITH,  imperturbably. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  proudly  skinned  out  three  jacks  and  a  pair 
of  kings,  and  inquired  rather  superciliously,  was  "  dat  good  ?" 

"We'se  loaded  fer  bar  over  yar,"  retorted  Mr.  SMITH^ 
evasively. 

"Whad?"  asked  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  astonished  ;  for,  as  dealer,, 
he  was  certain  he  had  not  given  Mr.  WILLIAMS  a  fourth  nine. 

"We'se  jess — jess  loaded  fer  bar." 

"  Whad's  dat  ?"  reiterated  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  turning  as  pale 
as  he  could.  "  Shope  dem  nines  !  " 

Mr.  SMITH'S  only  reply  was  to  spread  Mr.  JACKSON'S  hand 
out.  It  consisted  mainly  of  queens,  with  a  flavor  of  trays  to 
give  it  strength.  He  then  gathered  in  the  pot  and,  with  Mr. 
JACKSON,  quitted  the  room.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  sat  in  deep 
thought.  After  a  little  he  said  :  "  I  like  de  game  for  fun — jess, 
jess  to  pass  away  de  time.  But  dat" — here  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
waved  l.is  hand  towards  the  debris  of  the  recent  encounter, 
with  the  air  of  one  inculcating  a  lofty  moral — "dat 's  gamblin'!'* 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


28  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


BAR  'S  NO  SUCKAHS  IN  HOBOKEN. 


THE    INCOMPREHENSIBLE    DEMEANOR    OF    MR.    DILSEY. 


FOR  three  weeks,  until  last  Saturday,  the  Thompson  Street 
POKER  CLUB  had  had  no  session.  This  was  partly  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  proprietor  of  the  building  had  sordidly  closed 
the  room  and  kicked  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON,  the  treasurer,  down 
stairs  on  learning  that,  owing  to  some  inexplicable  phenomenon 
not  understood  by  the  Club,  the  kitty  had  not  yielded  enough 
to  pay  for  the  kerosene,  much  less  the  rent. 

As  a  regular  rake  on  two  pairs  and  upward  had  been  made, 
for  a  month,  this  delinquency  amazed  the  Club.  Various 
scientific  theories  were  advanced,  among  them  one  involving  a 
search  of  Mr.  JOHNSON'S  private  pocket  and  bootleg,  but  inves 
tigation  had  shown  them  to  be  false.  An  inspection  of  the 
table-drawer  was  then  made.  It  was  shown  that  a  knot-hole 
existed  in  the  bottom  thereof,  large  enough  to  admit  of  the  in 
sertion  of  two  fingers  or  the  abstraction  of  three  dollars,  which 
was  the  amount  of  the  missing  kitty.  It  was  also  demonstrated 
that  the  knot-hole  had  been  in  perihelion,  so  to  speak,  with  Mr. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  29 

TOOTER  WILLIAMS.  Therefore,  while  it  was  clear  that  the 
money  was  hopelessly  gone,  it  was  impossible  to  account  for  its 
absence  upon  any  other  theory  than  that  offered  by  Mr.  WIL 
LIAMS  himself  that  de  mice  done  smell  dat  las'  welch  rahbit 
offen  Mr.  JOHNSON'S  fingahs  on  de  bills,  an'  run  off  wid  it." 
This  explanation  was  received  in  lieu  of  a  better  ;  the  Rev. 
Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH  paid  the  rent  and  assumed  charge  of 
the  kitty  until  he  should  be  reimbursed  ;  Mr.  JOHNSON  mag 
nanimously  forgave  the  gentleman  who  had  kicked  him  down 
stairs.  Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  expressed  his  belief  in  Mr. 
JOHNSON'S  integrity  as  Treasurer,  and  all  was  again  harmony 

Mr.  CYANIDE  WHIFFLES,  for  a  moderate  percentage,  had 
volunteered  to  steer  his  brother-in-law  against  the  game,  and, 
to  use  a  technical  expression,  blow  him  in  for  all  he  was  worth. 
The  gentleman  in  question  was  a  Hoboken  barber  with  a  steady 
income,  a  total  ignorance  of  draw-poker,  a  child-like  confidence 
and  other  advantages  of  mind  and  person  which  impressed  Mr. 
WILLIAMS  favorably. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  instructed  the  neophyte  in  those 
fundamental  principles  known  as  "  coming  in,"  "straddling," 
"  rising,"  and  "  sweetnin'  de  jacker,"  and  by  tacit  consent  he 
was  allowed  to  win  some  small  successive  pots  and  thus  got 
himself  into  a  glorious  humor.  Then  Mr.  WILLIAMS  winked 
at  Gus  JOHNSON,  and  that  gentleman  dealt. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  had  straddled  the  blind  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
SMITH  straddled  him.  All  came  in,  and  drew  three  cards 
apiece  except  the  stranger,  Mr.  HIGHLAND  DILSEY,  who  only 
wanted  one.  Mr  WILLIAMS  bet  a  dollar.  Mr.  SMITH  raised 
him  two. 

Professor  BRICK  called,  as  did  also  Mr.  WHIFFLES.  All 
eyes  were  upon  Mr.  DILSEY,  and  the  silence  was  so  profound 
that  Mr.  JOHNSON  could  hear  his  hair  grow. 

"  Does  yo'  jess — jess  call,  Mistah  DILSEY,"  inquired  Mr. 
WILLIAMS,  with  a  sweet  smile,  "  or  does  yo'  rise  it  ?" 


30  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

Mr  DILSEY  passed  his  cards  in  review,  hesitated,  and  said: 

"Kin  I  rise  it?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  who  had  a  great  deal 
of  benevolence  and  also  three  kings.  "  Rise  it  all  yo'  want." 

Thus  encouraged,  Mr.  DILSEY  raised  the  pot  six  dollars. 
Everybody  breathed  hard  with  suppressed  excitement,  and  Mr 
JOHNSON'S  eyes  might  have  served  for  a  hat  rack.  Mr.  WIL 
LIAMS  raised  back  and  Mr.  SMITH  raised  him.  The  others,  ac 
cording  to  previous  agreement,  fled. 

Mr.  DILSEY  called.  "  What  yo'  got  to  beat  two  par  ?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Is  sev'ral  big,  fat,  smilin'  kings  any  good  ?"  asked  Mr. 
WILLIAMS  kindly. 

"  Kin  a  spade  flisk,  queen  high,  do  miffin'  ?"  queried  the 
Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  Shome  up,"  said  Mr.  DILSEY,  apparently  nursing  his  left 
foot. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  unfolded  his  private  collection  of  royalty, 
and  Mr.  SMITH  exhibited  a  panorama  of  spades'  which  reflected 
great  credit  upon  Mr.  JOHNSON'S  dealing. 

"I  'se  sorry,  Mistah  DILSEY,"  observed  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Dat  's  de  way  wif  cyards,"  remarked  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH, 
sententiously.  "  Gamblin"s  onsartin." 

Mr.  DILSEY  spoke  not,  but  began  to  count  up  the  pot. 

"  Wha — whad  yo'  doin'  wif  de  spondles  ?"  asked  Mr.  WIL 
LIAMS 

"  Leggo  my  pot !  "  commanded  Mr.  SMITH. 

Mr.  DILSEY  coolly  rolled  up  the  bills  and  inserted  them  in 
an  abyss  under  his  vest,  and  then  swept  the  coppers  and  Mr. 
WHIFFLES'  plated  watch-chain  into  his  pocket. 

"  Look  hyar,  niggahs,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  which  made  Mr. 
JOHNSON  feel  like  a  refrigerator,  "  I  'se  from  Hoboken,  an'  I  'se 
a  barbah.  When  a  Hoboken  barbah  comes  to  Thoms'n  Street, 
he  kerries  his  profession  wif  him.  I  'se  got  bofe  boot-legs  an' 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  31 


32  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUE. 

a  hip-pocket  full  er  de  implements  ob  de  craff.    Yo'  hear  me  ?'*" 

All  signified  by  silence  that  they  heard.  Then  Mr.  DILSEY 
laid  down  three  jacks  and  a  pair  of  sixes,  and  coolly  jammed 
Mr.  WHIFFLES'  hat  down  over  his  eyes  and  quitted  the  room. 

The  Club  sat  stricken  for  three  minutes.  Then  the  door 
slowly  reopened,  and  Mr.  DILSEY'S  voice  sounded  sepulchraKy: 

"  Dar  's  no  suckahs  in  Hoboken." 

With  that  he  vanished. 


DE     SEVEN     CENTS. 


PROCEEDS    OF    AN    ENTERTAINMENT    FOR    THE    BARTHOLDI 
PEDESTAL    FUND. 


A  SPECIAL  meeting  of  the  Thompson  Street  Poker  Club 
was  held  last  Saturday  evening  for  the  purpose  of  dis 
cussing  the  ways  and  means  of  aiding  the  Bartholdi  Pedestal 
Fund.  Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS,  who  had  unfortunately  not  en 
tirely  recovered  from  an  acute  attack  of  malaria  contracted  on 
New  Year's  Day,  was  found  to  be  too  unparliamentary  and  up 
roarious  to  occupy  the  Chair,  so  that  power  was  conferred  upon 
the  Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH,  who,  though  evidently  con 
valescing  from  the  same  malady,  was  drowsy  but  dignified,  and 
banked  as  usual. 

Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  opened  the  question  and  the  jack-pot 
by  remarking  that  he  had  seen  a  photograph  of  the  statue,  and 
thought  that  its  complexion  should  strongly  recommend  it  to 
the  zeal  of  the  colored  race. 

Mr.  Gus.  JOHNSON  passed  out  with  the  remark  that  he  never 
did  n't  have  no  luck  on  packers  nohow,  and  wanted  to  hear  the 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  33 

Barthoidi  matter  more  fully  discussed  before  venturing  an 
opinion. 

Mr.  CYANIDE  WHIFFLES  came  in  without  remark. 

Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  woke  up  and  said  he  would  open 
the  pot  for  a  dollar  and  a  half.  Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON,  who  saw 
there  was  trouble  coming,  hastened  to  mildly  assure  him  it  had 
already  been  opened  for  thirty-five  cents.  Then  said  Mr. 
WILLIAMS  in  a  voice  of  war  : 

"  I  rise  dat  two  dollahs,  'n  I  '11  knock  de  tar  outen  de 
niggah  wot  doan'  rassle." 

This  definite  proposition  had  the  effect  of  scaring  Mr. 
JACKSON  half  to  death,  and  of  recalling  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH 
from  the  temporary  state  of  coma  into  which  he  had  lapsed. 
He  drowsily  ran  over  his  hand,  inquired  who  had  opened  the 
pot,  and  on  being  informed  of  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  belligerent  burst 
of  chips,  electrified  all  present  by  drawing  forth  the  honorable 
wallet  and  slapping  it  on  the  table  with  great  violence.  He  then 
said  to  Mr.  WILLIAMS  : 

"  Look  hyar,  TOOT  ;  what  yo'  doin  ?" 

"  I  jess — jess  rised  dat  pot,"  faltered  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  who 
had  not  forgotten  past  experiences  with  that  wallet. 

"  Yo'  rised  it,  did  yer  ?"  sarcastically  inquired  Mr.  SMITH  : 
"  yo'  rised  it  ?"  Here  he  opened  the  wallet  and  shook  out  a 
roll  of  bills.  "  I  see  dat  rise  'n  I  swole  dat  pot  ten,  twonny — 
— fohty  dollahs."  Here  he  leaned  back  and  smiled  reassuringly 
on  Mr.  JACKSON,  who  had  begun  to  breathe  again. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  ran  his  hand  over.  It  somehow  did  n't 
seem  to  be  as  large  as  before.  He  then  said  : 

"  I — I  'sidered  dis  pot  was  fer — fer  de  fun'." 

"  Wot  fun'  ?"  asked  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  De  pedestal  fun'  ?" 

*'  Dat 's  why  you  swole  de  jacker  ?" 

"  Ye— yes." 


34  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


"BRER  JACKSON 'LL  TAKE  DE  SEBEN  CENTS." 

"  Well,  den,  for  de  sake  ob  de  pedestal  fun',  I  jess  swole  it 
fohty  dollahs." 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  respiration  was  labored  for  a  few  minutes, 
during  which  time  he  ran  his  hand  over  again. 

"  I'se  a  patriot,"  he  said,  "an'  I  '11  do  anyt'ing  in  de 
cause." 

"  Den  yo'  call  dat  rise  ?" 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  threw  up  his  hand.  The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH 
raked  in  the  jack,  counted  it  over  twice,  and  said  : 

"  De  gross  proceeds  of  dis  entertainment  am  five  dollahs  'n 
seventy-two  cents.  Five  from  thirteen,  nine,  carry  one  ;  six  'n 
four  's  nine — dat  leaves  jis  seven  cents  profit  fer  de  fun'.  Brud- 
der  Jackson  will  take  charge  ob  de  seven  cents,"  he  concluded, 
passing  that  sum  over  in  coppers. 

"  Bud  whar — whar  's  de  res'  ob  de  money  goin',"  inquired 
Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  The  res'  of  de  money,"  said  Mr.  SMITH,  impressively,  "  is 
absorbed  by  de  'spenses  ob  de  entertainment.  Brudder  JACK 
SON  will  now  pass  around  de  aces." 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  35 


TRIFLIN'    WIF   PROV'DENCE. 

THE  Thompson  Street  Poker  Club  met  as  usual  last  Satur 
day  evening,  the  Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH  in  the 
chair.  There  were  present  Professor  BRICK,  Mr.  CYANIDE 
WHIFFLES  and  Elder  JUBILEE  ANDERSON,  whom  Mr.  TOOTER 
WILLIAMS,  as  an  act  of  courtesy,  had  volunteered  to  steer 
against  the  game.  A  note  of  regrets  was  received  from  Mr. 
Gus.  JOHNSON.  Owing  to  a  slight  misunderstanding  in  rela 
tion  to  the  ownership  of  an  overcoat,  he  had  a  temporary  en 
gagement  with  the  municipal  authorities. 

The  game  was  spirited,  the  jack-pots  frequent  and  excit 
ing,  and  the  luck  for  two  hours  ran  steadily  against  the  Elder. 

Mr.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  had  been  to  a  stag  dinner  in  the 
early  evening,  and  the  heating  influence  of  the  maccaroni  com 
pelled  him  about  every  fifth  hand  to  seek  the  outer  air  and 
cool  himself.  Each  time  he  returned,  however,  he  would  in 
dulge  in  such  a  reckless  burst  of  chips  and  flushes  as  to  mislead 
his  guest  into  the  supposition  that  it  would  be  wiser  for  him  to 
go  home  and  sleep  it 'off.  But  as  he  steadily  won  it  was  useless 
to  make  the  proposition. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  Elder  had  lost  six  dollars  and  drew 
out  of  the  game.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  was  nine  dollars  and  Mr. 
WHIFFLES'  ulster  ahead.  The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  was  gloomy 


36  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

and  Professor  BRICK  seemed  to  be  deliberating  what  form  of 
suicide  would  be  cheapest  and  most  effective.  Mr.  WILLIAMS, 
from  being  musically  uproarious,  had  become  incoherent  and 
abusive.  He  drew  three  cards  against  Mr.  WHIFFLES'  pat  flush 
and  got  him  four  dollars  in  debt,  and  he  bounced  the  Rev.  Mr. 
SMITH  out  of  a  jack-pot  with  two  miserable  fives,  which  he 
gleefully  showed  down.  He  was  then  again  attacked  by  mac- 
caroni  and  vanished  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air. 

"  Kin  I  play  yo'  ban',  Toot  ?"  inquired  the  Elder,  as  M*. 
WILLIAMS  rose. 

"Cern'ly,"  replied  that  gentleman.  "An'  when  yo'  ketch 
'em,  kyarve  Smith — kyarve  'im  !"  With  two  lurches  and  this 
truculent  request,  he  quitted  the  room. 

The  Elder  smiled  across  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH,  and  that 
gentleman  winked  at  Mr.  WHIFFLES,  who  dealt. 

"  I  bets  yo'  a  dollah,"  observed  the  Elder. 

"  I  rises  dat  fo',"  retorted  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  I  calls.     Gimme  a  cyard,"  said  the  Elder. 

"  Me  too,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  Fo'  dol'ahs,"  said  the  Elder,  making  a  cavern  in  Mr. 
WILLIAMS'S  pile. 

"  Fo'  mo',"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 

At  that  moment  a  door  slammed,  and  Mr.  WHIFFLES  knew 
that  trouble  and  Mr.  WILLIAMS  was  coming. 

"  Fo'  mo  'n  yo',"  was  the  Elder's  reply,  as  he  shoved  up 
the  last  of  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  chips  and  Mr.  WHIFFLES'  ulster. 

"Rise  dat  fo',".  replied  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH.  At  that 
moment  Mr.  WILLIAMS  entered.  His  practised  eye  took  in  the 
situation  at  once. 

"Wha— whadjer  doin'  ?"  he  asked  the  Elder. 

"  Playin'  yo'  han',"  replied  that  gentleman,  giving  him  the 
cards. 

"Who — who  done  all  dat  risin' ?"  was  Mr.  WILLIAMS* 
next  inquiry. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


37 


38  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

"/  did  ;  dad's  who,'    said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  ran  his  hand  over.  It  held  two  trays,  a. 
pair  of  nines,  and  a  king. 

"Spose — sposen  I  rise  yo'  back  ?"  he  said  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
SMITH,  in  tones  which  he  hoped  would  fill  him  with  terror. 

"  Rise  away,"  was  that  gentleman's  imperturbable  reply. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS,  for  a  moment,  was  plunged  in  profound 
thought.  Then  he  threw  up  his  hand.  The  Elder  slowly 
drew  in  the  pot,  buried  it  in  his  pocket,  tried  the  fit  of  Mr. 
WHIFFLES'  ulster,  found  it  too  small,  gave  it  back  to  its  owner, 
and  then  with  the  Elder  and  a  somewhat  fiendish  chuckle, 
quitted  the  room.  There  was  silence  for  a  minute,  and  then 
Mr.  WILLIAMS  said,  impressively  : 

"Niggas,  dad's  what  er  genelman  gits  for  takin' his  eye 
offen  de  pack.  Dad  speeyunce  done  cos'  me  jess — jess  six 
dollahs  a  minit — dat  fresh  air  was  jess  sixty  cents  a  breff,  while 
I  was  outen  de  room.  Dad  's  not  pokah.  Dad  's  triflin  wif 
prov'dence." 


"WHARJER     GIT     DEM     JACKS?" 


MR.   WILLIAMS    AND    MR.  SMITH    HAVE    A    SLIGHT    MISUNDER 
STANDING. 


R.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  had  a  bad  eye  and  several 
kings  when  the  Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH  opened  the 
first  jack-pot  at  the  regular  meeting  of  the  Thompson  Street 
Poker  Club,  Saturday  evening.  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  saw  that  a 
powerful  brew  of  mischief  was  at  hand,  and  prudently  laid 
down  two  pair  ;  while  Mr.  CYANIDE  WHIFFLES,  who  had  a. 
severe  cold,  a  pair  of  eights,  and  very  little  horse  sense,  came  in. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  39 

"I  rise  dat  two  dollahs,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  quietly,  but 
with  truculence  of  intent. 

"Yo's  gittin'  too  brash,"  rejoined  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH, 
testily.  "  Ef  yo'  tinks  yo'  's  de  Vandybilk  er  dis  pahty,  jess — 
jess  stack  'em  up.  I  rise  yo'  six  dollahs." 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  considered  for  a  moment,  during  which 
time  he  thoughtfully  examined  the  cards  which  with  great  fore 
sight  he  had  previously  pinned  to  the  leg  of  the  table. 

"  I  calls,"  he  said,  at  length.     "  Gimme  two  cyards." 

Mr.  WHIFFLES  fled. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  dealt  Mr.  WILLIAMS  two  cards,  and 
conscientiously  helped  himself  to  the  last  ten-spot  remaining  in 
the  pack.  He  then  banged  the  honored  wallet  on  the  table  and 
said  : 

"  'Leven  dollahs." 

"  I  calls  yo',"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  secretly  unpinning  the 
hidden  hand,  and  counting  out  the  money. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  swept  the  pot  into  his  pocket. 

"  Wha — whadjer  doin'?"  gasped  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  aghast  at 
this  unparliamentary  proceeding. 

"Fo*  tens,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH,  showing  down  that 
remarkable  hand.  "  How  many  freckles  yo'  got  on  yo'  han'  ? " 
he  inquired. 

"Fse — I'se  jess — jess   clum  over  yo'  tens,"  said  Mr.  WIL 
LIAMS,  with  an  effort  to  be  calm  and  look  honest. 

"  Shome  up,"  said  the  reverend  gentleman. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  unfolded  four  jacks.     They  were  all  there. 

"  Wharjer  get  um  ?"  was  the  next  point  in  the  Rev.  Mr. 
SMITH'S  catechism. 

"  Outen  de  pack,  er  course,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  breathing 
hard. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH'S  reply  was  to  reach  over  and  weave 
his  fingers  firmly  through  the  roots  of  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  hair. 
Then  he  thrashed  around  the  room  with  him  for  a  few  excited 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  41 

minutes  and  then  sat  down  upon  him.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  still 
breathed  heavily. 

"  Wharjer  git  dem  jacks  ? " 

"Outen  de  pack,"  again  responded  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  making 
a  feeble  effort  to  get  up. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  butted  his  head  nineteen  times  against 
the  floor  with  great  rapidity  and  violence,  and  again  inquired, 
softly  : 

"  Wharjer  gettum  ?  " 

"  Outen  de  pack.  Leggo  my  kinks,"  urged  Mr.  WILLIAMS, 
still  breathing  heavily.  Again  his  head  was  butted  violently 
against  the  floor  until  the  landlord  on  the  floor  above  was  im 
pressed  with  the  idea  that  the  Club  was  refreshing  itself  with  a 
solo  on  the  bass  drum. 

"Whar — jer — git — dem — jacks?"  inquired  the  Rev.  Mr. 
SMITH,  emphasising  each  word  with  a  double  butt. 

"  Outen — de — "  here  Mr.  WILLIAMS  faltered. 

"  Outen  de  what  ? "  asked  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  with  a  tem 
porary  cessation  of  hostilities. 

"  De  bug,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  doggedly.      "  Lemme  up." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  unloaded  himself  from  Mr.  WILL- 
IAMS'S  abdomen,  arose,  crossed  the  room  and  possessed  himself 
of  the  extra  cards  pinned  to  the  table. 

"  Dis  whadjer  call  de  bug  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yezzah,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  gloomy  but  respectful. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  assumed  his  overcoat.  Then  he 
replied  to  Mr.  WILLIAMS  : 

"  TOOT,  by  the  prowishuns  of  rule  sixty-fo',  yo'  am  sus 
pended  till  de  next  meetin,'  an'  doan  yo'  work  de  bug  no  mo'- 
Mistah  CYANIDE  WHIFFLES  an'  Gus  JOHNSON  will  now  come 
down  ter  de  s'loon  an'  rassle  wif  a  sassenger  an'  some  beer." 

The  Club  then  adjourned. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  breathed  heavily. 


42  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


"TROD  SOF'LY,  NIGGAHS." 

MR.  TOOTER  WILLIAMS  opened  the  first  jack-pot 
with  a  little  hesitation  and  four  white  chips,  Saturday 
evening.  Deacon  TROTLINE  ANGUISH^  who  had  strayed  in 
under  the  chaperonage  of  Mr.  CYANIDE  WHIFFLES,  and  who 
apparently  had  jacks-up  and  a  very  superficial  knowledge  of 
Mr.  WILLIAMS,  came  in.  Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON  felt  a  strong 
temptation  to  put  a  plaster  on  the  back  of  the  wall-eyed  king 
he  had  caught,  hold  him  up  with  the  deuces  and  try  and  pull 
something,  but  the  studied  indifference  with  which  Mr.  WIL 
LIAMS  gazed  into  space,  made  him  lay  down  his  hand  and  wish 
he  were  dead.  Mr.  CYANIDE  WHIFFLES  borrowed  a  blue  chip 
from  the  Deacon  "jess — jess  till  de  nex' han',"  and  came  in 
and  kept  the  change.  Then  all  eyes  naturally  centred  on  the 
Rev.  Mr.  THANKFUL  SMITH,  who,  in  addition  to  a  barricade  of 
chips  which  made  Mr.  WHIFFLES'S  mouth  water,  had  a  four 
flush  and  a  cheerfulness  of  demeanor  which  boded  no  good. 

"  Ez  my  fren'  TOOT  's  done  open  dat  jacker,"  he  began, 
sweetly,  u  I  rises  hit."  So  saying,  he  put  up  such  a  stack  of 
blue  chips  that  Mr.  WHIFFLES  nearly  fainted. 

"  Whad  yo'  go  do  dat  for,  Brer  THANKFUL  ?"  inquired 
the  Deacon,  in  wild  remonstrance.  "  Dat 's  not  de  speret  ob  de 
Gospil." 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  43 

"  Whar — whar  yo'  fin'  draw-poker  in  de  Gospil  ?"  testily- 
rejoined  Mr.  SMITH.  "  Does  yo'  tink  de  Possles  'n  de  'Vangel- 
ists  writ  de  Scripter  after  rasslin'  wid  a  two-cyard  draw  agin  a 
flush  ?"  he  sarcastically  inquired.  "  No,  Brer  ANGUISH.  Less 
ten'  ter  business.  Dis  ain't  no  prar  meetin' — ceptin'  Brer  WIL 
LIAMS  seems  to  be  on  de  anxious  seat." 

"  Who — who 's  on  de  anxious  seat  ?"  asked  Mr.  WILLIAMS, 
hotly.  "  Yo'  jess  come  on  ;  I  rises  yo'  fo'  dollahs." 

The  Deacon  sadly  ran  over  his  hand.  "  De  Gospil,  Brer 
THANKFUL,"  he  began  ;  "de  Gospil." 

"Cheese  dat,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH.  "Is  yo'  goin* 
ter  pray  or  poke  ? " 

"  I'se  gwine  ter  poke,"  he  replied  ;  "  I'se  gwine  ter  see  yo' 
rise  "  here  he  shoved  up  a  stack  of  blues — "  an'  Brer  TOOT  s 
rise" — here  he  shoved  up  another  stack — "an'  I'se  gwine  ter 
rise  it  jess  a  leetle,  'cordin'  ter  de  speret  ob  de  good  Book  " — 
here  he  shoved  up  six  dollars. 

Mr.  WHIFFLES  fled. 

Mr.  JACKSON  was  breathing  still,  but  that  was  all. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  glared  defiance.      '*  I  rise  yo'  back." 

"/rise^',"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"An'  I  rise  TOOT,"  said  the  Deacon. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  was  aghast.  He  was  dealing,  and 
knew  by  intuition  that  he  would  catch  his  fifth  club  ;  but  there 
was  a  serenity  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  which  affrighted 
him, 

"  I  jess — jess  calls,"  he  said. 

"  I  calls,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Help  de  genelmen,"  said  the  Deacon,  writh  the  benevo 
lence  which  invariably  accompanies  a  pat  hand. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  broke  his  two  pair  and  drew  to  his   jacks. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  got  his  club. 

"  Six  dollahs,"  said  the  Deacon,  after  Mr.  WILLIAMS  had 
timidly  ventured  one  chip. 


44  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

4 

11 1  calls,"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH,  sullenly 

"  I  rise  dat  six  mo',''  said-Mr  WILLIAMS. 

"  I  rise  yo'  six,"  said  the  Deacon. 

"  I  calls,"  gasped  Mr  SMITH,  shoving  up  his  last  chip 
and  his  snuff-box. 

"  Six  mo',"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Six  mo',"  said  the  Deacon. 

Mr.  SMITH  shucked  off  his  overcoat  and  added  to  it  his 
spectacles.  "  I  calls,"  he  said,  as  though  speaking  from  the 
tomb. 

"  Six  mo',"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"Six  mo',"  said  the  Deacon. 

"I — I  hain't  got  nuffin'  mo',"  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH, 
faltering. 

"  Shove  up  dat  watch,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  Soak  dem  new  boots,"  urged  the  Deacon. 

"An*  dat  golhedded  cane,"  suggested  Mr.  JACKSON,  who, 
of  course,  however,  had  no  business  to  speak,  and  was  accord 
ingly  suppressed. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH  hesitated.  Then  he  sighed  and  threw 
up  his  hand.  To  his  great  astonishment  Mr.  WILLIAMS  did 
the  same.  The  elder  softly  hummed  a  hymn,  tried  the  focal 
length  of  Mr.  SMITH'S  spectacles,  assumed  Mr.  SMITH'S  ulster, 
thoughtfully  inserted  Mr.  SMITH'S  watch-chain  in  his  vest- 
pocket,  collared  the  bank  and  counted  it,  and  then,  with  a 
cheerful  smile  at  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  left  the  room.  The  silence 
for  several  minutes  was  sepulchral.  Then  Mr.  JACKSON  said  : 

"  I  'se  'fraid— 

"Yo'  'se  'fraid  ob  what?"  asked  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH, 
savagely. 

"  Dad  TOOT  's  played  yo'." 

"Wha — whad?"  gasped  Mr.  SMITH. 

"  Dad  was  a  sawbuck,"  said  Mr.  JACKSON. 

"  Whad 's  a  sawbuck  ?" 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 


45 


46  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

"  Why,  dad  pious  niggah's  TOOT'S  cust  fuzzin — TOOT'S 
dad's  nevvy,"  said  Mr.  JACKSON. 

A  light  broke  upon  the  Rev.  Mr.  SMITH.  "  Dey  was  risin' 
an'  risin — ter — ter  knock  de  tar  outen  me?'  he  inquired,  in  a 
voice  which  froze  Mr.  WHIFFLES'  marrow. 

"  Yezzah,"  said  Mr.  JACKSON,  keeping  the  table  well  be 
tween  them. 

Mr.  SMITH  turned  over  Mr.  WILLIAMS'  hand.  It  contained 
two  jacks.  He  examined  the  Deacon's.  It  held  just  three 
hearts,  a  spade  and  a  club.  He  then  re-examined  his  own  flush. 
It  was  still  perfect. 

"  Niggahs,"  he  said,  with  the  calmness  of  despair,  "  go  out 
sof'ly,  and  lemme  alone.  I  'se  been  a  prayin'  and  a-rasslin'  wif 
Satan  now  gwine  onto  thutty-fo'  yar,  and  dis  am  de  f us'  time  I 
done  got  roped  in  by  de  combination  er  Gospil  an'  draw.  Go 
out,  sof'ly,  niggahs."  I  want  er  rassle  wif  de  dickshunary  an' 
de  angel  ob  wrath  er  while,  an'  den  git  de  mos'  feasible  words 
an'  club  I  kin  fine,  ter  spress  my  feelin's  ter  Brer  TOOT  and 
Brer  ANGUISH.  Trod  sof'ly,  niggahs — trod  out  sof'ly." 

They  trod. 


"WHUFFER   YO'    RISE    DAT?" 


THE  VERY  EXTRAORDINARY  HAND  HELD  BY  MR.  JOHNSON. 


THE  Thompson  Street  Poker  Club  had  an  unusually  quiet 
game,  with  the  luck  steadily  against  Mr.  TOOTER  WIL 
LIAMS,  until  an  unusually  tough  jack-pot  brightened  up  the 
interest.  Mr.  WILLIAMS  glanced  across  the  table  and  saw  the 
eyes  of  Mr.  Gus  JOHNSON  shining  with  the  light  of  something 
very  big. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  passed. 
Mr.  WHIFFLES  passed. 


THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB.  47 

Mr.  JOHNSON  opened  the  pot  with  a  defiant  air  and  forty- 
six  cents  in  mutilated  coin. 

The  dealer,  Mr.  RUBE  JACKSON,  came  in. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  promptly  raised  the  bet  two  .punched 
quarters  and  a  ten-cent  stamp. 

"Whuffer  yo'  rise  dat  ?"  asked  Mr.  JOHNSON,  whom  this 
extraordinary  action  excited. 

"  Nebber  yo'  mine,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  sullenly.  "  Jess 
yo'  put  up  er  shut  up — dat 's  all. 

"  'Spose  I'se  got  three  jacks  an'  rise  you  back  ?"  suggested 
Mr.  JOHNSON. 

"  And  'spose  I'se  got  a  flisk,  eh  ?  Jess  'spose  I's  got  a 
flisk,  niggah  ;  whar  's  yo'  three  jacks — eh  ? "  Mr.  WILLIAMS 
breathed  very  hard  and  glared  at  Mr.  JOHNSON  till  even  that 
gentleman's  vest  buttons  were  cold. 

Mr.  JOHNSON  faltered,  ran  his  hand  over  twice,  sized  up 
the  pot,  and  decided  he'd  "jess  call."  They  then  proceeded 
to  draw  cards. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  thought  he  'd  play  what  he  had. 

Mr.  JOHNSON  drew  two  cards  to  three  tens  and  caught  a 
pair  of  nines.  This  considerably  reassured  him.  He  bet 
thirty  cents  with  the  remark  :  "  Now  jess  go  ahead  on  dat 
flisk — jess  fool  away  yo'  substance  much  as  yo'  choose." 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  thoughtfully  raised  him  forty  cents  and  a 
plug  of  tobacco. 

Mr.  JOHNSON  saw  the  raise  and  retaliated  by  wagering  a 
plated  watch-guard  and  a  pair  of  spectacles,  borrowed  from  the 
Rev.  THANKFUL  SMITH  who  sat  behind  him. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  raised  back.  And  so  it  went  until  there 
was  nothing  left  to  bet  except  the  lamp  and  table,  which  were 
common  property,  inalienable  under  the  constitution. 

"  Now,  niggah,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS,  "  jess  show  down  dem 
jacks." 

"  I  haint  got  no  jacks,"  said  Mr.  JOHNSON.       'I  was  lyin'. 


48  THE  THOMPSON  STREET  POKER  CLUB. 

I  had  three  ten-speckers,  befo'  de  draw.  Show  down  yo'  flisk  ; 
dat 's  what  /  want  ter  see." 

"Well,  I  haint  got  no  flisk,"  said  Mr.  WILLIAMS. 

"  What  has  yo'  got  ?  Show  up  yo'  straight  ?"  demanded 
Mr  JOHNSON. 

"  Haint  got  no  straight." 

"  Show  up  dat  two  par,  den." 

"  Haint  got  no  two  par." 

"What  has  yo' got,  den,  niggah  ?"  Mr.  JOHNSON  was  be 
ginning  to  have  his  suspicions. 

Mr.  WILLIAMS  slowly  and  triumphantly  skinned  out  three 
jacks  and  a  pair  of  trays.  Mr.  JOHNSON  rose  to  leave  the 
room. 

"  I  doan  mine  losen  my  substance,  an'  I  doan  mine  a  squar' 
beat ;  but  I  doan  draw  no  mo'  cyards  agin  a  liar." 


THE    CLUB    ADJOURNED. 


3. 


A  Companion  to  THE  THOMPSON  ST.   POKER  CLUB 


The  Ifott  £freet  o     Club. 


Bret  Harte  tells  us  that  "  for  ways  that  are  dark  and 
tricks  that  are  vain,  the  Heathen  Chinee  is  peculiar,"  and 
the  Secretary's  minutes  prove  to  us  the  truth  of  this 
assertion. 

We  learn  from  the  text  of  this  book  a  fact  never  before 
suspected,  that  humor  can  be  found  in  a  Chinaman  :  and 
Mr.  Michael  Woolf  has  proven,  in  his  niimerous  illustrations, 
that  'Melicans  can  derive  genuine  enjoyment  from  a 
perusal  of  its  pages. 


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